


Lights were low in Philadelphia

by memoriesoflastwords



Category: War's Gospel
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Motorcycles, Philadelphia, Spokon, dora - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:06:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memoriesoflastwords/pseuds/memoriesoflastwords
Summary: Let's put motorcycles in it and call it a well-done spokon. Day 8 of fanwriter.it's Writober, here I come!Ipos and Nero get to talk as they head back home.
Relationships: Elentiya & Ipos Clemonte, Elentiya/Nero Horne, Ipos Clemonte & Gabriel Clemonte, Ipos Clemonte & Nero Horne
Collections: Writober di Fanwriter.it, Writober2020 di Fanwriter.it





	Lights were low in Philadelphia

The lights were low in Philadelphia as night came. 

Most of their friends were home, already, with their loving parents cooking delicious meals they could only imagine the smell and taste of. But Manon cooked less and less as she tried to find the money her daughter needed, and Natalya spent most of the night out, working at ever different restaurants. So, nor the Clemonte brothers nor Nero Horne would find a warm plate, going back home. 

Summer was getting to its end, and senior year was coming. Not for everyone of them, of course – Gabriel was out of high school already, and working hard, day by day, in order to maintain his family to some extent. Nero, Ipos and Elentiya were the only ones going back to school in a less than two weeks of time. 

The last months had been weird from them. They had been inseparable but crashing and breaking a little bit more every day. They perfectly knew, talking about the nearby future, some of them were not to be included. Some of them were not to be considered in long term plans. 

But it didn’t matter, that night, as they roamed the streets just outside the city, not yet ready to go back to their respective homes. That night, Elentiya was not with them – after a fight, despite it not exactly being a fight but more of a discussion, with Nero, she had stopped hanging out with the group – and Gabriel had a new job to start. He left early, a kiss on Ipos’s cheek, a shake of Nero’s hand. So now, the less close of the quartet were alone, together. 

“One last ride?” Ipos asked, blonde hair once again tucked under the helmet, blue eyes looking at him behind the protective glass. 

Nero nodded, as he got on his motorbike. 

That was, perhaps, one of the few – two, literally – things they had in common, their love for motorcycles and speed. Ipos used that to get away from her world, from her being, from her thoughts. Nero used speed and danger in order to think. Different results obtained through the same method. Different people in love with the same hazardous hobby. 

“You know…” once again, it was Ipos who spoke, as she got on her own motorbike and Nero put his helmet on. “Sometimes I wonder whether or not we could have been friends, hadn’t some things happened. Things being Elentiya and Gabriel, quite obviously.” 

Nero looked at her under the helmet. “I’m glad they happened.” 

Despite the distance between them, physical but not only, he could feel her doubt on the matter. She spoke, an eyebrow arched. “Both?” 

“Maybe El’ only.” he said, but that was no surprise to either of them. 

Nero had developed feelings for Elentiya and Gabriel alike, but something had happened between him and the oldest Clemonte that had left them both with open wounds. Despite him being amazing at hiding feelings and cuts, Ipos knew her brother well enough to see through the façade and into his pain. 

“Thought so.” she put on a smile, hidden by the helmet, and sat more comfortably on the bike. “Still, I wonder whether we could have been friends, had you been the one to help me in the corridors, and not Elentiya.” 

Lights started shaping Philadelphia’s edges, and Nero lost himself in the thought of just how fierce the city looked, from Lemon Hill. Just how different the same city was, when you lived there, and ran the streets trying to get to school on time. 

“Probably.” he said, eyes still on the skyline on the city that had raised him but he was so keen to leave “I mean, you’re likeable, when you don’t pretend to hate me.” 

“I don’t pretend. I actively try and hate you.” she couldn’t understand his thoughts, but Ipos, too, was thinking about running away, despite knowing she had no way to. And she hated Nero, deep down, to some degree, for the chances he had of changing his life for the better, away from Pennsylvania. “Too bad you’re hot, you make my job harder.” 

Nero looked at her for a split second, then laughed despite not being able – that was no news – to tell Ipos’s truths from her lies and games. “Don’t fuck with me, Clemonte.” 

Ipos shook her shoulders. “That’s not what I’m doing. Still, one last ride or you’re too tired already?” 

“I’m never tired. My stamina levels are outmatched.” Nero spoke back, as he gave gas to the motorbike and the silence all around them vanished in vibrations. 

Ipos did the same, eyes still on Nero in a doubtful look. “I’ll ask that much to your next partner.” she said, because she definitely was not going to ask Elentiya about it. She didn’t want to think about her under Nero’s weight, not as she still thought about that girl as her own. 

“Or…” Ipos knew what Nero was about to say before he got by her side, a joke written all over his face. “You could try it out.” 

“I’m not that brave.” she snorted. “And you’re not ready for the 2.0 experience of Ipos Clemonte, my dear friend.” 

Nero shut up at that. They had never talked about Ipos being transgender, before. Nero didn’t even know whether she had already had her operation or not. They were not that close, and Ipos was still Ipos. Brilliant, extremely likeable, witty, sometimes even scary. Her gender hadn’t really mattered when Nero had first joined the weird trio formed by Elentiya and the Clemonte brothers. 

They descended Lemon Hill, motorbikes at their fastest, caring little about other people on the road. They both knew they were good enough, on their mounts, not to risk hurting anyone – but themselves – in the unlikely event of an accident. Elentiya, the only one out of the quartet not enjoying speed as they all did, would often hide her face against Ipos’s or Nero’s back as they rode. 

As they reached Kelly Drive, the road back home, they slowed down, enjoying the chill that came from the Schuylkill river. They’d spent most of their summer there, rowing or fishing or simply laughing out loud, no warmth at night but other bodies and small fires. Now, that road was a way to end things peacefully, in silence, as they so often did, unnoticed. 

Kelly Drive soon took them away from the Schuylkill, so that they no longer felt as if they were racing against the small tides. They took in the perfume of the Azalea Garden as they went through it, moving toward Fairmount Avenue and back to the beating heart of the city. 

“Where are you stopping?” Ipos spoke against the rising wind and the city’s noise. 

“At Rybread.” Nero slowed down. “Harbor is out tonight, and I’d rather not burn the house down as I cook.” 

“So what, you’ll settle for a sandwich? That’s horribly sad, Horne.” Ipos shook her head, turned on the 24th street as Nero followed her, confused as to why she’d changed the route. “Come. You’re my guest tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ipos and Nero belong to the War's Gospel project. If you want to support us, consider buying us a coffee at ko-fi.com/warsgospel ^^


End file.
